


The Poison to the Empire

by MythicalWriter



Category: Narcos (TV), Narcos: Mexico (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, Cali Cartel, Crossover, Escape, F/M, Kidnapped, Medellin Cartel, Multi, Narcos - Freeform, Narcos: Mexico, One Girl Vs. Medellin Cartel, Original Characters/Narcos, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Sex, Swearing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, chapters to come, hostage, no yn, not done, reader - Freeform, third person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24015184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicalWriter/pseuds/MythicalWriter
Summary: “So how are you related to Escobar?” The DEA agent asked, seemingly indifferent towards the subject. He took another drink of his beer as she was left looking into her own glass of water, carefully thinking the words she would say.“I… I was his mistress,” she said. And silence ensued.“Wow,” was all he said. A countenance of shock formed on his face as he thought for a moment. “When they said they had an informant, I was expecting just some one-timer whore of his or something… I didn’t expect…”“Me?” She replied. The longer she was in this man’s present, the more she disliked him. Perhaps it was his air of cockiness that made her uncomfortable, or his blasé approach to the dilemma she was in. “I suppose that makes the two of us.”-She was the main key to destroy the Medellin Cartel, the one that all of Colombia sought after. The DEA needed her, the Cali Cartel wanted her, Los Pepes had to have her... but with all the power she brought from being the most important informant of Pablo Escobar to ever come, she was also the biggest "goal" the Medellin Cartel needed to "make". In other words, the biggest hit they needed to kill.
Relationships: Isabella Bautista/Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo, Javier Peña/Reader, Javier Peña/You, Pablo Escobar/Reader, Pablo Escobar/You, Poison/Reader, Roberto Ramos/Reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 51





	1. In the Hands of a Psychopath

WARNING: THIS IS THE ONLY NON-CON SCENE OF THE ENTIRE BOOK. IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT AND/OR IT IS A TRIGGER, I HIGHLY RECOMMEND SKIPPING TO THE NEXT CHAPTER.

~

There she was, on his bed… her hands and legs bound with a tight rope, a gag around her mouth, and her beautiful body covered by only a tight white dress that perfectly complemented the curves of her body. Tearful brown eyes looked up at the man who was her former lover’s hitman, a man she was afraid of. He didn’t have any sympathy for any living creature on this planet, and as Pablo stated in a willful night with her warm body wrapped around his, the most savage of them all. He could kill any innocent person and not shed a single tear. 

His preferred weapon of choice was a simple gun, whether it be a machine or a pistol. It didn’t matter to him. It was easy and quick, the very one he used to murder her brother. A deep hate lurked within her for him, but even more so, for Pablo, the one who ordered it. Before she realized that, she screamed at Pablo, begging him to kill Poison, this psychopath who killed her 5 year old brother. But he refused. 

Afterwards, both of her parents were brought among other drug dealers and were executed by a firing squad. He had explained that they betrayed him; that if they weren’t dead, they’d take her away from him. She came to a dreadful epiphany that day, as she sobbed uncontrollably when they held her back. Her mother gave her a sympathetic smile, whispering, “it’ll all be alright,” a minute before her bloody body hit the ground. 

But now she was left with nobody. 

And her and Pablo argued, alright. Screaming at each other at the top of their lungs. She had tried to run away, but it only resulted in her being held captive: but that wasn’t what let her be put in this very position. It was the fact that she tried to stab and kill him in retaliation. She didn’t succeed. 

He was near executing her himself afterwards, but decided that it wouldn’t be as cruel as throwing her in the hands of the man she hated dearly. She distinctly remembered being shoved in the dirt, the taste of blood tangible on her tongue as she looked up. The smirking fuck was staring her down in a “You’re mine now, bitch,” type of manner. 

“She’s yours,” Pablo said, his voice grim. He wasn’t happy, but a part of him couldn’t bring himself to murder her… this woman that he once loved. Almost as much as he loved Tata.. almost. “Do whatever you want with her - use her, feed her to the hippos, I don’t care. Just make sure you kill her by the end of the day.”

Without even looking up at him, Poison nodded. “Yes boss.”

Pablo sighed, fumbling with the collar of his shirt - he was sweating underneath, his hair sticking to his forehead as he looked into her eyes for one last time and shook his head. A look of disappointment. 

Now she was here, knowing she would die. And she accepted this. But whatever he did to her, she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of screaming or crying for him - she refused. 

“I’ve wanted you for a long time, chica,” he said, his pistol sliding across her jawline. She felt a piercing coldness on her skin, his eyes looking down at her with feral darkness. She flinched at the way he dragged the steel down her neck to her clavicle, seemingly teasing her. “And now you’re mine.”

She didn’t respond. She didn’t even look at him. 

“I’m going to fuck you harder than Pablo ever has,” he said, roughly grabbing her chin and forcing her face to look at him. He was atop of her, his other hand cupping her breast and squeezing slowly. She gave a whimper, making him smirk more as his fingers found her nipple through the light fabric and pinched hard. She let out a higher toned whimper, a muffled cry stopped by the gag that restricted the movements of her mouth. “You’ll be my little whore for the last hours of your life.” 

His hand went over the side of her face, and she shuddered at the callousness rubbing against her skin - he was taking the gag off her, a quick and swift motion. 

“You can scream all you want. Nobody will care.”

She glared at him, her mouth tightly shut. He was telling her to, hoping that she’d scream and shout and squirm. But she didn’t. Her lips remained sealed, and she tried as much as she could to seem nonchalant. He sighed, going back to her nipple and giving another tighter squeeze, and she whimpered at the shocking pain that it sent through her body.

He only smiled once again in response, his body coming closer to hers. “That’s it. I want you to scream for me.”

She tried to hold back the tears that were trying to escape, struggling a little against the rough rope that bound her. He noticed this, and gave a sharp laugh that scared her more than the worst sound to ever exist. 

Before she knew it, his mouth pushed against her tightly, his hands now on the sides of her head as he forced her lips to push against his more passionately. He took her in a sloppy, wet kiss, and he tried to stick his devilish tongue into her mouth. She refused, but he persisted, squeezing her breast a little harder than comfort which managed to open her mouth in a gasp. He seemed to have a sick satisfaction from that, continuing to move his hands all over her body as he passionately kissed her. She shivered as his hand slid up her thigh and under her dress, and she couldn’t help but try to move her hips away from his hand, to resist him… it didn’t work. Instead, she heard a small groan come from him as his hand finally found her cunt… which was soaking wet. 

She could feel his lips stop for a second, surprised to find that she was aroused. She couldn’t help it; despite how her mind wanted it to end, her body ached for it otherwise. He slowly smiled against her lips, realizing what he had done as he put a few fingers between her folds, rubbing up and down as she moaned silently. 

He parted lips with her for a moment, his forehead still against hers as he continued to rub against her cunt with his hand. “You’re so fucking wet for me, chica,” he said, a proudness in his tone. “You’re too cute…"

“Please…” she said, trying it to be resilient, but instead coming out as meek as a mouse. 

“Please fuck you?” He said, mocking her in a mimicking tone. His finger went inside her, and she gasped as her hips rocked forward in an unconscious motion. “Don’t worry, I will… want to take my sweet time with you. I haven’t fucked a woman as pretty as you in _ages_ ,” he said, licking his lips. “And I’m just like any other man. I have needs, you know?” Another laugh followed, but she could only focus on those damn fingers skillfully penetrating her. 

“Please just kill me,” she whimpered, biting her lip to stifle any pleasurable sounds. “ _Kill me, please…”_

“Aw, but where would the fun be in that?” He said. Another finger went inside her, and she cried out in pleasure. “A dead body can’t suck a cock.” 

She was coming close, she could feel it. The way her walls clenched around his fingers, biting her tongue so hard that she could taste blood from it. In the next moment, he pulled his fingers out of her, leaving her near the edge. “No… no…” she started, knowing what his intentions were after. 

“I can’t have you cum already,” he said, climbing off the bed. His hands went to her legs, pulling her towards him and out of the edge. The impact of her body hitting the ground was a quick one, but it left her aching and moaning in pain. She was sitting on the ground now, bound. She watched helplessly as he sucked her juices off his fingers and began unbuckling his own belt, noticing the bulge that was threatening to break out of his pants. 

His dick sprung out as he swiftly pulled his pants down, the pleasure on his face evident. He was big, that was for damn sure, and even through the thick pubic hair that he didn’t care to shave couldn’t hide it. 

His hand roughly held her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “If you even try to do anything that’ll hurt me, I’ll give you the most painful death you can imagine,” he said, his voice thick with impatience. “I’m going to fuck your face, and I’m going to _enjoy_ it.” 

She only swallowed, nodding. She just wanted the pain to be over as soon as possible, and the more she obeyed, the quicker it would come. 

He lifted his chin up and gave a satisfied smirk. With that hand, he grabbed his throbbing cock and his other hand on her head. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, and she did so tentatively. It wasn’t too long after that she felt the tip of his cock go into her mouth, sliding back and forth on her wet tongue. His lips parted to let a slow, stirring moan out. “Good…” he said, beginning to rock his hips back and forth. His cock slowly went deeper into her mouth, and he gripped her hair a little tighter. “Just stay like that, _right_ _there…”_

Her wet crevice grew wider as he began to thrust harder into her mouth, grabbing her hair roughly and pushing it down. She couldn’t breathe, and she felt the head of his cock pushing against the back of her throat. Grunts of pleasure came from the infamous Sicario, digging his nails deeply into her scalp. She remembered Pablo and how gentle he was with her when she did the same thing to him, caressing her hair as she gulped him down at her own pace. If he was frustrated, he would fuck her mouth; but it certainly wasn’t as harsh as the man that was fucking it now. 

“You‘re good at this, aren’t you?” He said quietly, and she could feel his balls push against her skin every time he went into her mouth. “I can see why my boss kept you for so long.” 

She hardly had any air left within her, and he pulled out to let her breathe just before she could faint. A string of pre-cum connected between her mouth and his dick. 

“Get up,” he said, and he lightly kicked her shin so that it would sting, but not immobilize her. “I’m going to come inside you.”

She sniffled, taking a moment to suck in deep breaths. It was only when he gave her a harder kick in the shins that she got up, squirming as the bounds on her feet made her wobble. As soon as she did, he turned her over and pushed her onto the mattress, stomach down. He had the easiest access to her cunt there, as she couldn’t spread her legs very far. 

Once she lay down, he straddled her back so his cock was making contact with her cunt. His hands went to her panties, ripping it aggressively so she was bare naked. He leaned down, pushing a few hairs aside from her ear and tickling it with his breath, saying, “I’m going to come inside you so hard, that I’ll replace Escobar’s territory with my own. How would you like that, hm?”

“I hate you,” she said, and she couldn’t hold her tears in any longer. She turned as far as her neck could to look at him, at the man who would soon after take her life. “I hate that you’re the last person I’m going to see.”

“Careful, chica,” he said, his voice dark as his face got close to hers. “I can do more to you than just this. And I promise, that time it’ll only be pleasurable to one of us.”

Before she could respond, his cock slipped between her slick folds, and she cried out at the sudden feeling of him inside her.

His head was right above hers, breathing heavily in her ear as he pushed himself deeper inside her. “You’re so tight, chica,” he said, one hand snaking its way around her throat, holding her tightly as he slowly picked up his pace. “You feel so fucking _good_.” 

“Roberto, please, stop…” she said, and though it hurt, the feeling of his cock within her felt incredible. His hand became tighter around her neck as she said that, his other on her bare ass as he guided himself straight into her core. 

“ _Shhhh_ ,” he whispered into her ear, putting his hand up to her mouth. He put two fingers into her mouth, pushing it inside to stop her from talking. Only her muffled screams could be heard from her as his pace quickened within her, his groans echoing inside her ear as he thrusted harder. He lifted his hand on her ass and gave it an incredibly hard smack, and another cry from her emitted as he smirked. He fucked her, harder than anyone has ever fucked her before, the slap of skin on skin being the loudest sound in the entire room. “God, I’m so close…” he groaned, both of his hands now on her hips as he held her in place tightly, and he bit down on the crook of her neck in a possessive manner. It stung, but the feeling of his cock ramming within her was able to deter any other feelings of pain. His tip hit her core over, and over, and over again, until she could feel herself toppling over the edge of release. 

She felt his mouth leave her neck as he let out his own low-pitched breathing, feeling her come onto his own cock. It wasn’t long after that she felt his seed within her, hot and sticky as he slowed down his thrusting and instead twitched within her when he released. A minute passed with them both panting heavily, his cock still dug deep inside her as she shook uncontrollably from the orgasm. 

“I wish I could keep you for myself,” he smiled, softly kissing the hickey he had left on her neck. “What a shame.”


	2. An Impromptu Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her execution was coming close... But what would happen if Pablo changed his mind last minute?

“Did she like it?” 

La Quica, Pablo called him. As cold blooded as they come, legs crossed with a cigarette between his lips. He held a beer in his left hand, only taking the cigarette out to drink sips from it. He looked at Poison with a smug expression, knowing exactly what had happened the moment he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. “She didn’t have a choice,” he responded, and they both laughed. 

“Did you kill her yet?”

Poison took a cigarette out of the packet, lighting it up with one swift click of the lighter. He inhaled when asked the question, and shook his head before exhaling. “I’m keeping her around a little longer. Probably going to fuck her a few more times before putting a bullet in her.” 

“Ay,” Quica started, raising a finger to point at him. “I want to give her a go too. She’s a pretty one.” 

“Pablo gave her to _me_ , remember?” he reminded him. “Nobody’s gonna touch her other than me.” 

“C’mon now, man. Don’t be selfish.” 

“She belongs to me, asshole,” he said, half joking and half serious. He wanted to be the last man to fuck her before she died. A grand sense of satisfaction, knowing that he’d fucked the most powerful man’s paramour out of existence. 

He raised hands up in a surrendering motion, knowing to not push it any further. He smirked, “Must’ve had the magic pussy, huh? First keeping Pablo, and now keeping you.” 

“I just miss the feeling of a woman’s cunt is all… especially a woman that isn’t as loose as those whores,” he clarified. He didn’t even bother to fuck them anymore; he’d simply just used their mouths to get him off. If there was one thing they were good at, it was putting a cock in their mouth and doing their job. 

He missed the feeling of a pussy, however; hell, he’d considered looking for an attractive woman he could find and fuck during a mission… but it would be too tedious. Not finding a woman; he’d just have to put a gun to their head and she was his. But the fact that his accomplices were nearby, and he couldn’t taint his reputation in front of Pablo. 

“Why’d he give you her anyways?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing closer together. “Why not me, or another one of the guys?”

He shrugged, finishing up the cigarette and putting it out in the bowl. As far as he knew, Pablo didn’t have another target for him that he’d have to hit for the rest of the day. He may as well try out the other hole in her body, while he was able. 

“Hm… He really liked her too. One time he said that when he was president, he’d take her to be his second wife. I’d like to see Tata’s reaction to that,” he laughed, taking another swig of the beer. 

The opening of the door caught the attention of both men, glancing as it opened wide enough to see the man behind it. Sure Shot. “Ay, is the girl still alive?” He asked. 

A frustration grew within Poison, and he slammed his hand against the glass table, shaking the objects that were on top of it. “For the last fucking time, she’s _mine_. I’m not letting anyone put his cock inside of her. Go find your own whore, how about that?” He snapped, looking between the both of them.

Sure Shot seemed taken aback, confused about his aggressive demeanor. Quietly, he continued, “Pablo was wondering if she still was. If she is, he’s calling off the execution. He wants her back.” 

“ _Shit,_ ” he muttered under his breath. Although he would never say it, why the fuck did his boss take whatever he wanted? For the first time, he felt proud about claiming his property, only for it to be swiped right back. Begrudgingly, he said, “Yes, she is. Does he want her now?”

“That’s what he told me.” 

Damn. 

—

She was inside of a lavish room, with a king sized bed and her own bathroom near the side. The walls were painted beige, and there were an excess of lights around the room to make up for the windowless interior. She was practically thrown in here, the door shutting behind her as she was left breathing heavily and wondering what the hell had just happened. Did Pablo call off her assassination? Was she being sent to another man’s cage as a present to rape and slaughter? 

After Poison left her on the bed, still bound and aching from after he’d raped her, all she could do was cry; cry for her family, her mother, brother, and father… her friends, her hopes and dreams for the future… and for herself. That she’d never be able to reach. 

She slowly accepted her death, knowing that whatever was to come for her, it would be quick. Would there be pain? For a split second, yes. But afterwards, she’d be able to see her family again. She believed in the afterlife, like many others. Not a heaven nor hell, but a place where she would reunite with her family. And she hoped that was the place where she would head. Even after the misery she went through, she smiled. The pain will end. 

When she heard the door opening, she lay on the bed askew; looking on as Poison entered the room, and noticing a countenance of frustration on his face. “I’m ready to die,” she spoke softly as he swiftly made his way over to her. She heard him scoff, his hands making its way to uncuff her from the bed. 

“Lucky for you, the boss is calling off the execution.” 

Did she hear him correctly? _No._ It couldn’t be. She was baffled and horrified all the same, her mind screaming at her to _run_ . Make him want to shoot her in the head, make him want to kill her… anything but go back to him. She didn’t want to live any longer, she wanted to die, here and now. This was supposed to be the end for her, and she accepted it. She didn’t want to suffer anymore. “No,” she said quietly, “no, kill me now, I want _to die now_!” She struggled against his grip as he pulled her up, struggling as much as she could. “NO!” She screamed, and she heard the man curse and yell for help; two other men came into the room, and she writhed against them. “Let me go, I want to die, I want to die now!” 

“ _Shut the fuck up!”_ Poison barked at her, and they eventually pulled her out of the bed. It took three men to hold her down and take her to the car, and even then it was difficult; even with her binds. Even with her aches. A woman in pain could make it a living hell for all the men in the world. 

And now she was here, in the fancy room with pretty paintings on the wall and a smooth rug beneath her. She was fuming; why had he decided last minute to keep her? She made it clear that she loathed him. She told him more times than every single penny he owned. They kept her bound in the room; probably instructed by Pablo himself. Whether he was worried she would attack him, or his plans to take advantage of her, or both; she was left vulnerable, sobbing and screaming curses at the door. Nobody could hear her. Or more likely, nobody could care. 

After minutes of screaming in rage, she gave up, going limp on the floor. She couldn’t feel any part of her body, and her slow breathing was enough to put her in a trance. 

_Inhale… and exhale._

_Inhale… and exhale._

This cycle repeated for hours; she closed her eyelids, feeling herself slowly drift away and she continued to breathe in and out. She wished in any second that the door would open, a gun put on her temple, and that the man would pull the trigger. She wished, and prayed… but even if she was the most stubborn person alive, she knew better than that. 

Her body was covered in bruises and her clothes ripped, the cold air brushing her skin with icy kisses. The only thing that kept her warm was the rage in her heart, a hot blanket that covered her body from head to toe. 

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, the door opened. Footsteps entered the room, and the door was promptly shut behind once again. It was a few seconds that the person who was inside was looking at her; she didn’t even bother to see who it was. She could feel his dark eyes sink her in, every part of her, and she felt bare naked in his presence. 

“Are you okay?” A low voice asked. None other than the person that she hated within every inch of her. She didn’t respond; she didn’t even pay him any heed. She looked off into the distance, focusing on her slow, rhythmic breathing. 

A scoff came from him, taking a few steps closer to her; she could tell from his breathing that he had rushed his way over here as well, bending down to touch her shoulder softly; she flinched. 

“He hurt you, didn’t he?” She heard him say, his thumb rubbing against her shoulder in circles. “I was expecting him to kill you right away. But I suppose he saw what I see in you. I’d lie if I wasn’t a bit upset… but I gave him that call, didn’t I?”

She swallowed. “When he came through that door… I was ready to die.” 

“I know,” was all he said, his fingers now tracing down her arm.

“Then why keep me?” Her head craned towards him, her eyes meeting his. She couldn’t tell what was within those eyes of his; nothing, if that was an answer. “Why can’t you kill me?” 

“Because…” he started, taking a deep breath. He stopped caressing her, glancing to the side for a split second before looking back at her. “I love you.”

“You don’t love me,” she said, venom seeping in her tone of voice. That was the most inaccurate statement she had ever heard in her entire life. “You couldn’t love me any more than you could love your worst enemy.” 

He looked into her eyes for a moment; he didn’t like being told he was wrong. If there was one thing Pablo could never be, it was being understanding. “Then why do I keep you alive?”

“I don’t know. But it isn’t because you love me.” 

“And maybe it’s isn’t,” he stated nonchalantly. “But I do feel something different for you.” He took out a knife from the back pocket of his pants and went to the bindings on her feet, slowly cutting away the rope that pushed against her skin like blades. She let out a groan in pain as he unraveled, revealing marks and bruises that the rope made when tightly bound. He then went up to her hands, beginning to unbind as well, and then stopped and looked at her. “Do you love me?” 

She was still baffled by him from taking the binds of her that she was inarticulate speaking. “I…” it took her nearly 30 seconds to form the sentence. “I… did. Not anymore.” When he finally took the binds off her hands, she contracted her fingers, feeling the blood rush to them after days of being bound. She saw his face fall to a slight disappointment, throwing the binds to the side as he began to stand up. 

“One day you’ll feel it again. I still stand by what I said to you.”

She knew exactly what he had said to her months ago; that he would marry her and treat her like a queen, and give her everything she ever wanted in life. She should have laughed in his face. But she believed him… so naive of her. So stupid. “Eat shit,” she simply said, looking away. 

There was a response in which she never anticipated; laughter. He chuckled, a sound so benevolent to her ears once before, and now malevolent. He let out one last sigh, “You remind me too much of myself.”

And with that, he stood up, walked to the door, opened it, and closed it behind him. And all she could do was sit there in shock, wondering what the hell had just happened.


	3. A Familiar, Unwanted Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A face that terrified her.
> 
> A face that haunted her.
> 
> A face... that was familiar.

There would be days he wouldn’t come. 

There would be days that if he did come, he wouldn’t say anything. He’d just stand there and stare at her for a minute or two, and then leave. 

There would be days he’d ask one or two questions, (which she wouldn’t respond to), and he’d give up and go away. 

She was allowed to leave the room and go outside in the sunlight, or near the crackling fire of the living room’s fireplace, but she preferred not to. The room she was staying in was the only place she could be, alone and without anyone, the only other place being the bathroom. Outside, she would have a guard watching over her like a hawk, following her every move and taking every step she took. Pablo introduced him as “Alfonso,” but even then she was unsure if that was his true identity. 

One day, however, she was in desperate need to see the sun again and went outside, not even noticing the man behind her. She sat on the edge of the built-up waterfall, smoking a cigarette and listening to the birds chirp. She had been inside for far too long, and she felt that if she spent another damn second in that overly-intricate room, she’d go insane. Other than the few voices whispering, it was relatively calm and tranquil in Pablo Escobar’s vacation home. 

Until _he_ came. 

Finishing up her cigarette, she heard the cacophony of loud voices and laughter as she turned towards the noise to try and see where it was coming from. “Is Pablo here?” She asked the guard, who didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. His pupils were the only things that moved to look at her, not saying a single word. She had tried to talk to the man on multiple occasions, and yet he never responded. Still, she tried. 

When she got off the seat and started walking to the direction of the noise, she heard a voice that shook her to her core. “Hey, I’m the one who shot that motherfucker first.”

And laughter. 

_Poison._

She turned to her guard, saying, “Follow me closely.”

He looked at her as if she was stupid, yet he nodded nonetheless.

Walking slowly to the entrance, she peeked inside to see him at the front with Quica and Sure Shot, the only ones she could recognize. She swallowed, rubbing her hands together as she tried to stand strong and walk to her room with some sort of swagger, her guard following every step she took. When they heard her, Quica turned and gave her a smile, a smile that was mocking and made her hate him even more than she already did. _Don’t focus on them, don’t focus on them,_ she said to herself, trying to evade eye contact when stepping on the stairs up to her room. She heard Quica whisper to Poison, in which he turned towards her and smirked. “Hey chica.” 

She ignored him, now halfway up the staircase as he scoffed. He began to follow behind her, only to be stopped by Alfonso, who pointed his gun towards him. “Stay away,” he said, and she slowly let out a breath of relief. “Boss’ orders.”

“Is it?” Poison asked, his body language not changing in the slightest despite the gun that was pointed to his head. “I don’t remember that.”

“You of all people should know,” She finally snapped, turning towards him. A seething rage formed inside her, and she couldn’t keep it in any longer.

His eyes gleamed with malice. “She speaks,” he said, somewhat surprised by her sudden tone, but amused. “That’s good to know.”

“There’s a lot you should know about me,” she responded, her hand on the railing. She showed no sign of fear, unlike before. “Including my tolerance.” 

“Oh?” He asked, chuckling as he leaned in to her, his voice getting quieter, “But I also know all of your body,” his voice got more quiet, “Especially your pussy.”

“Hey, get the hell away from her,” Alfonso said, lightly touching Poison’s chest and pushing back. It wasn’t aggressive whatsoever, yet Poison smacked his hand away from him like his life depended on it, snarling.

“Next time you touch me, I’ll put a bullet in your head.”

“Or maybe Pablo will allow me to put it in yours,” he replied back, surprisingly nonchalant. “Now step the fuck back, or we’ll have a problem here, _Roberto._ ”

There was a silence among the whole crowd of people, and she stood there with bated breath - even some of the other guards gaped, surprised by the sudden courage Alfonso formed to step up to one of the most dangerous men in Columbia. Poison’s face turned from a number of distinct expressions — from shock, to rage, to a murderous look… and eventually… laughter. He laughed like this scenario was the most hilarious comedy in the entire world, patting Alfonso on the shoulder as if he was the comedian. “You’re a funny man, Ollie. A very funny man.” 

Alfonso didn’t respond, only glaring at him. Soon enough, Poison gave her one last smile before turning back and going down the stairs. She didn’t even realize it, but her own hand was rested upon his shoulder, as if he was her guardian angel. He didn’t seem to notice this, however, growling at her to “Get back to your room.” 

He didn’t need to say it twice. 


	4. A Drunken Intimacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, drinking to numb the pain isn't the best idea. Especially if you're talking to one of the most powerful men in the world.

‘ _Alfonso,_

_Thank you for protecting me and guarding me. Though I know we cannot talk, you make this chaos bearable.’_

She had given him the note the night prior, going to grab another bottle of wine as a decoy before slipping the note in his pocket. She didn’t know why; perhaps because he was the only man who had protected her and shown her the slightest bit of of kindness by doing so. He didn’t speak to her when she tried to talk to him; he didn’t even make eye contact with her when she passed by him. After the predicament with him and Poison, Poison rarely visited the house again. In fact, she didn’t see him for a very long time — it was bittersweet, however, as he seemed to keep Alfonso’s distance from her even more. He was still there, either outside of the house or in the back… but not close to her. 

She had written the note, clutching it with her wherever she went to somehow, _someway,_ slip it in his pocket. And it was a night he was on-call to watch the hallway, and only him. When coming back with the bottle of wine, she finally, rather poorly, tossed it to him, but he got the memo and subtly put it in his pocket. 

She had felt so nervous that night, tossing and turning in her bed and worrying about what he thought — did he care for her? That gave her a glimmer of hope that perhaps, one day, they’d run away together. They would go to the DEA, get Pablo killed, and then be exonerated. A slim chance, but the only one that stopped her from running away herself. But that would have to wait, and she’d have to cope somehow. 

Tonight was one of those nights where she had been drinking a bit too much — scratch that, _way_ too much. A whole bottle of wine, to be exact. Surprisingly, she didn’t vomit, but she sure as hell wasn’t her natural self either. 

When Pablo opened the door to her room, she jumped from the loveseat she sat in, spilling wine all over her white blouse. She found it quite amusing, however, laughing at her clumsiness as he looked at her as if she was crazy. 

“You’re acting different,” Pablo noted, but not moving when she walked towards him, a half-full glass of wine in her hand. She handed it out to him, but he shook his head. He questioningly looked at her as she shrugged and downed the red liquid instead, the feeling warm and welcoming in her throat. “How much have you drunk?”

After holding the cup up to get the last drop of wine in her mouth, she shrugged. “More than usual.”

“And how much is that?”

She smiled at him, a sheepish and guilty one. “Why do you ask? Do I give it away easily?”

His head motioned at her up and down, as if to non-verbally say, _‘Obviously.’_

“I suppose I am guilty of this crime, Pablo — but you know what else I’m guilty of?” She asked, now raising her arms to put them around his neck. He flinched for a moment, confused at the sudden affection she was giving him, taking a step backwards in befuddlement; however, seeing as she was no threat to him, he did not move. The muscles that she felt around his neck and shoulders were tense, though, presenting his off-putting reaction to her behavior. “I’m guilty of falling in love with you.” 

He chuckled, his eyes following the ground for a moment. “I think you’re guilty of drinking your way to insanity.”

“Oh, c’mon…” she said, cocking her head to the side. “I’m happy, isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Not in this way, no,” he responded, his arms still at his side. Her hand came down to his, putting it on the side of her waist before returning hers to his neck. He raised his eyebrows, though he still rested his hand there. 

“Tell me you love me, Pablo.” 

“What?”

Her face got closer to his, the smell of the wine reeking on her breath. Unconsciously, he placed his other hand around her waist, holding her closer to him as she cupped his face lightly. His mind was telling him to push her away and leave, but his body was begging to be close to her… like opposite poles of a magnet pulling together. “Tell me you love me. The way you told me the first time.”

He swallowed, and for the first time in a very long time, he was speechless. Speechless to the point of not knowing how to answer.

“Pablo?”

He followed up with an order. “You first.”

“I don’t know about _love,_ but I miss you. I miss the way you cared for me, the promises you made to me, the conversations you had with me...” she leaned closer to him, their lips barely brushing against one another’s. He needed to get away now, before he fell under her spell… but it was already coming over him. He had waited for this moment for so long, so long that now he didn’t even care about the circumstances in which it came. “The way you fucked me.” 

He spoke her name, so softly that he himself couldn’t hear it — but it wasn’t enough. He felt the softness of her lips push against his, and that was enough to send his pent up feelings over the edge. He held her waist tighter to his as their lips locked, soon pushing her against the wall possessively as he continued to kiss her. It was a feeling of pure bliss, her hands running through his thick dark hair, his hands going up and down her body — he didn’t realize how much he _yearned_ for her until this moment, missing the way she clung onto him while they touched each other all over. His hands slipped under her blouse, and she instinctively raised her hands up for him to pull it over her head… God, those breasts were as beautiful as he remembered. 

“Pablo…” she said softly, beginning to unbutton his collar as well as he stood there, basking in her presence. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his lips making way with her neck as she whimpered quietly. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

His hands went behind her back, undoing her bra as he nibbled softly, making traces along her neck, and one hand came over her breast to grope it lightly — perfectly cupped in his hand. And he would have put his mouth on them too, if it weren’t for the sudden _knock_ on the damn door. Groaning, he stopped kissing her and rested his forehead on hers in dismay, not even turning to where the sound came from. “ _What?_ ” He barked, his grip still as firm as before. 

“It’s Blackie, sir. He needs to talk to you.”

“Tell him to fucking wait. I’ll be there soon.”

“He says it’s urgent.” 

She heard him sigh heavily, standing there for a moment before finally releasing her, the coldness now hitting her without his warm body next to hers. As he turned, her hand went out to grab his wrist, and looked at him with pleading eyes, “Don’t leave me.” 

She saw the smallest smile on his face, looking at her up and down before planting the most careful kiss on her forehead, “Never, my love.” After that, he went to button up his open collar before heading to the door, not even worrying about his hair, which was an obvious mess. He gave her one last glance and said, “Don’t drink any more, sweetheart. I need you to function for me when I come back, no?”

She nodded, giving him a smile. “I’ll be here.”

Hours later, she lay on the bed, holding back her temptation to grab another cigarette and inhale the dopamine. She didn’t remember half of the things that went down with Pablo, being too drunk to even remember the feeling of his lips on hers. She fell asleep soon after he left, a deep one, and by the time she woke up, it was already 4 in the morning. If he was originally coming back to see her, it was far too late now. 

She stayed there for another 30 minutes, before getting up to look at herself deeply in the mirror. Hickeys, swollen and dark, were traced from her upper sternum all the way to the side of her jaw. She touched them lightly with her hand, and her face fell as she remembered what had gotten over her. She needed the presence of someone, _anyone,_ and the alcohol had pushed her to do so… even if it was with someone she promised to not give that satisfaction to. 

When she turned around, she noticed a white piece of paper on the floor. It looked like notebook paper, and she didn’t realize it to be hers… unless it was…

A note! 

A smile formed on her face, completely forgetting about Pablo and his antics as she rushed over to where the scribbled piece of writing was. Picking it up, it read;

_‘Sweetheart,_

_I appreciate your gratitude, but I am only doing my job. Please don’t write back to me again. It would put both of our lives at stake.’_

She had to read it a few more times over before she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, a tightness in her chest. Her face felt hot, confused and in disbelief. Was this even the real note?

Yes. Yes it was. 

After a few moments, she was worried that she would burst into tears at any moment, as stupid as it would seem. Why was she so passionate about this man? Who didn’t even give her the time of day to glance in her direction, nor to even acknowledge her presence? She was entirely infatuated with him after the event that happened with Poison; a knight in shining armor, in her eyes. Her eventual savior. With no one to turn to, he was the only one she could form the smallest attachment to — that grew rather big, in hindsight. 

She crumpled the note in her hand, throwing it to the side as hot tears stung her eyes. Grabbing another cigarette, she lit it hastily, almost burning herself with the stub… but it didn’t matter. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as her hopes being crushed by three sentences. 


	5. Don't Mess With a Hungover Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title explains it all.

She was awoken by the loud noises outside of her window. 

_Very loud._ Like the engine of a car stopping, and shouts and grunts that bounced off the walls and right into her room. She had been asleep from dawn to night; but despite it, she felt anything but refreshed. 

Her throat was dry. 

Her stomach hurt. 

Her head was ringing. 

Her whole body was aching with pain in every single joint. 

She felt as though the room was shrinking, becoming smaller and smaller every single second. She had drank enough to put her into comatose for nearly a day, and nobody even noticed.

Half of her wanted to sleep more, to hopefully fall back into that same state of slumber: that was the only secure place she felt she could be in. However, despite the attempt to go back to sleep, the noise from downstairs and the constant needs of her body were enough to draw her out of the bed — ever so slowly. 

She dragged her feet out, the nightgown flowing past her knees as she wobbled from side to side, managing to keep her balance. She likely had a bad hangover, to say the least, and she needed some nutrition in her other than wine or vodka. That was clear as day. 

Taking slow steps toward the door, she could barely focus on one spot at a time. It was blurry, but she used her arm to smooth her way over the wall, cautiously heading towards the door. Finally feeling a perturbed bump in the wall, she figured that she had found the door. Her hand reached and failed three times to find the handle; however, fourth time was a charm, and she managed to turn it and weakly stumble over the threshold, her body miraculously staying up. 

She flung herself across the door and to the railing, glancing down at the heads of people that were mingling around — whose faces all turned to two very specific people, that is. When she turned as well, she could barely distinguish who was garnering all this attention... until she finally concentrated enough to tell, even if it wasn’t distinct. And the closer they came, the more clear she could see them. 

Miguel Angel Felix Gallardo. 

Also known as “The Godfather” of Mexico’s drug trade, she had heard about him from Pablo long before the tragedy that occurred to her family. The beginning of their relationship, actually; it was their second date when he expressed his distaste for Mexicans, _especially_ Gallardo. Even though her vision was still blurry, (now less), she couldn’t help but stupidly gape at him. Beside his side was a woman: a very beautiful woman, in a sort of ethereal type of way. She had long black hair running past her waist, and dark eyes that complimented her sun-kissed skin. She thought it may have been his own mistress… but she couldn’t be certain.

Blackie directed the woman to stay in the house, making the others watch her like hawks as he left with Miguel to the outside patio. She was so focused on the woman that she didn’t even notice Poison there…

She wanted to come, to see what Pablo would do with this infamous trafficker, but when she took a few steps forward, a hand went upon her shoulder to stop her. She expected it to be another bodyguard, but was surprised to see the hand belong to someone else: Alfonso. An unamused look formed on her face. “What do you want?” 

“You shouldn’t go there. You may see things that are too gruesome for you.” 

“Like what?” She snapped at him. She wasn’t as naive as everybody thought she was. She’s already seen things people deemed heinous, and quite frankly, she was desensitized to it too. 

“He spoke about feeding Gallardo to the hippos,” he said quietly.

“Or maybe Gallardo will feed _him_ to the hippos,” she said under her breath.

He turned to her, and for the first time since she had seen him, he looked… shocked. He didn’t anticipate to hear those words coming from a girl like her. “Careful now. If you said that to the wrong man-...”

“If Pablo was going to kill me, he would’ve done so already,” she answered, not even giving the time of day to glance at his eyes when she said it. “If an assasination attempt wasn’t enough for him to execute me, certainly wanting him dead wouldn’t either.” 

He was about to respond when he turned his attention to another person, and she looked to notice one of the other men as well. Alfonso had a curious expression on his face as he stalked his way towards them. “Can I help you?”

The man motioned his hand towards her. “Alfi, get back to your place. You know the boss doesn’t like people talking to her for anything other than for orders.” As much as she hated being referred to, like a dog, she had gotten used to the degrading comments of the guards... to the point where she no longer cared.

He lifted his hands in a surrendering motion, taking a few steps backwards. “She was trying to run off to Pablo. I was only trying to stop her.” Now from _him_ , that was just hurtful. _Damn you. Damn Pablo. Damn everybody here._ _I wish you all were dead._

The other man gave him one last look before turning over to her. “You,” he said, directly pointing back to the bedroom. “Pablo says to go back to your room.” 

_How the hell did he know I was out so quickly?_ “You don’t have to talk to me like I’m a little girl,” she sneered. “What are you going to do next, try and put a diaper on me after I use the bathroom?” Alfonso couldn’t help but smile as the other man frowned. He was about to retort before she interrupted him. “...I need food,” she said, “And fresh air. So to hell with Pablo if he gets angry.” Afterwards, she walked past him, brushing by his side a bit more roughly than intended.

But he didn’t even need to move to get her to stay. “ _Poison’s here.”_

She stopped in her tracks. Even though it was hard to hear everything everybody was saying, those words were as prominent as daylight. “That’s impossible,” she said, turning back. “ _Pablo_ said he wouldn’t be back.”

“Do you think he gives a shit about being honest with you?” 

She turned her head back, looking over the porch once more at the crowd below her. Gallardo was long gone by then… and Poison wasn’t there either. They were playing their games, doing whatever they wanted and whoever they pleased — and nobody could say anything about it. 

Except tonight. 

Her pain was overcome with anger and determination, and she started to leave, hearing the man curse under his breath and coming to catch up to her — “Pablo will be-...” 

“ _Fuck Pablo!_ _Fuck all of you!”_ She shouted, so loudly it was nearly a scream. 

And the moment she said Pablo’s name, it fell silent. Every head turned up to look at her break, some faces amused while others were shocked — and then there was the mysterious woman, who had a mixture of both. Nobody dared to say a word, and the temperature had dropped as she stood there, as the atmosphere was stagnant. She should’ve felt humiliated; afraid, especially. But she didn’t. In reality, she experienced the contrary — liberated. Powerful. Strong. She was on top of her tower, looking down upon corrupt politicians and other drug lords alike… all of which were below her. A smile tugged on her lips, and she scoffed. Idiots. All of them. She spoke once again, softly yet articulately to the man: “ _I’m going to get some fresh air._ ” And with that, she went down the stairs, walking with a strange sort of swagger to her as she lifted her head up. There were a few whispers here and there, but it stopped when she glanced in their direction, passing by familiar faces and strangers alike. But it didn’t matter. No one stopped her. And she was beyond proud. 

But that euphoric emotion wouldn’t last forever. 


	6. The Final Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She hated them. All of them.
> 
> But above all, she hated him the most.

She was on the bridge of the deck, smoking a cigarette when she heard footsteps from behind storming towards her. She closed her eyes one last time, blissfully, relishing the smell of the ocean before her hair was yanked backwards to look straight into the face of a man who could’ve evidently killed her in that moment. He took the cigarette out of her lips, flung it into the water, and saw the motion of a hand and the feeling of a strong sting against her cheek ensuing. It hurt, but she only hissed out in pain as the coldness brushed against her face. “That’s for humiliating me,” he said. And afterwards, the back of the same hand made sharp contact with the other side of her face, “— And that’s for humiliating my partners.” 

She swallowed the hard lump in her throat, but didn’t say a word. 30 seconds passed, and she anticipated the feeling of something worse — A hit. Or a sharp pain. Or even a bullet. But there was nothing. “I kill men that say words like that about me,” he finally spoke, lifting his chin up to her in a sense of superiority. 

“...And yet you didn’t kill me when I did worse.” The hits she took didn’t even faze her any longer. She straightened her back; “You would’ve killed me already if that was your plan.”

“I know,” he started, and there was another long pause between them. 

“Then we’re done here.”

She turned on her heel to leave: but it wasn’t as easy as the last time.. Instead, she heard a low sigh, and his hand came upon on her shoulder, gripping firmly to prevent her from moving anywhere. “I’m not done talking to you yet, my love.” 

She bit her lip, and her hands clenched into fists. He controlled her for so long that she couldn’t stand following his orders anymore, let alone look back into those black eyes of his. She had to evade his glance just to stop herself from lashing out. “You lied to me.” 

His eyebrows slowly crept closer together, and whether he was frustrated or upset with her, she couldn’t tell at this time in night. “I’m not here to talk about that.”

“Oh, but I’m here to talk about what you want?” She snapped back, a little more aggressively than intended. “I didn’t know I was your whore.”

“If you think I’d let a whore have the same benefits as you do, you wouldn’t be here right now.” 

“Then maybe you should drop me off at a brothel. I’m sure there are plenty of other women that would gladly switch places with me.”

“But not any woman I’d switch you for.”

She felt her chest tighten after he said those words, a breath hitching in her throat as she stared at him. His face, a face that she used to adore dearly, to now fully detesting it. “What do you think is going to happen here? Do you think everything between us will be the same again?”

He went to glance over the bridge, saying nothing. She heard the hippos squeal while the birds were chirping, the creek running endlessly to a stream as a fish jumped out and in every few seconds. The tranquility of the place is what she used to love about it. She knew it, and he knew it; it was her favorite place out of all the fancy homes he brought her to, and, in retrospect, perhaps he kept her there for a reason. But it didn’t change her mind in the slightest about him, and what he did to her family. Vengeance was ripe in her mind, and that pushed her will to live. To prove herself to be something more than just a warm body he used to sleep beside. But despite that, she couldn’t help but let her emotions take control of her when talking to him. If she wanted to live, she had to conform to his desires. But it was a million times easier said than done. “I know I hurt you, dear,” he said softly. He stepped towards her, and his hand went to touch her cheek. He rested his fingers underneath her chin, pushing it up a little so he could look at her better. “But your family betrayed me. It was justice-...”

“ _Justice?!”_ She yelled, and she pushed him away from her harshly. He didn’t say anything when she did so, but his eyes told a whole other story. She should’ve stopped there, but the mention of her family was enough to start a storm within her. “You put a bullet in my mother and brother, who did _nothing_ , and you call it _justice?_ Do you think you’re some sort of messiah?” She spoke, with pure spite in her voice. “Go home to your wife and children, and don’t bother coming back. Because before you know it, I’ll be dead.” 

“Dead?” He asked, a trace of concern in his voice. He took a step towards her; and she took a step back. It repeated for only a few more times before he quickly came up to her, grabbing her by the hem of her dress and pushing her against the bridge’s fence, restraining her from getting out of his grip. She squirmed at the sudden commotion, but he didn’t care. He held her there, and his face was so close to hers that the marijuana he had smoked caused her to stifle in a cough. “No, you’re not going to die… I won’t allow it. You’re going to live.” 

“And what’s going to happen then?” She said, her voice as cold as ice. “I’ll magically fall in love with you?”

“You may not, but you’ll suffer for it if you don’t,” he said, and for the first time, those words sent a shiver up her spine. “I _own_ you.”

She bit her tongue to stop her from saying anything else. Instead, she only continued to look into those deep pools of brown that were his eyes. They looked consumed with anger at her insolence, and she could hear his heavy breathing in the midst of the quiet night. She held the frame of the bridge as his body pushed against hers, and after he realized that she would say no more, his eyes softened. She didn’t even realize that he dipped his head down to lock his lips with hers. Similar to the time she was intoxicated, he kissed her in a desperate manner, as if he was waiting for this moment for so long. She felt his tongue brush against her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth to let him claim her. He tasted of marijuana, making it almost unbearable for her to kiss him, and yet she stood there and allowed him to do the work. The worst part about it was that he was aggressive now, controlling... And she didn’t like that at all. His hands gripped her neck firmly, holding her head in place. It reminded her far too well of the past — and not with him. Her hands went to his shoulders like before, and she lightly pushed onto them. He didn’t get the memo. Instead, she had to push him harder away from her, nearly shoving him, his eyes opening in surprise and confusion. 

“Not now,” she said quietly. 

He said nothing, and the pause between them felt like it lasted an eternity. Eventually, he scoffed disappointedly, sucking in a breath and stating in a nonchalant manner -- “Not tonight, then.” And with that, he let go of her and went to walk away, back to the luxurious coven she used to call her second home. 

“Pablo...” She called after him. He slowly turned, and she swore she could’ve seen a hint of hope in his eyes. She shook her head. “...Not any night. Not anymore.”

She could see the hope in his eyes fade, and within them… there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Simply... stoic. “Then I suppose a whore will have to do.”

He left after that, and she continued looking over the bridge at the jubilant hippos that danced with one another -- before she was approached by two guards, and escorted back to her room five minutes later. 

Luckily, she did not encounter Poison. 


	7. The Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was near the brink of going crazy.
> 
> But luckily, someone came and saved her right before she could fall of the cliff of sanity.

She was sitting on her bed, taking small sips of rum when she heard the lightest of a knock, making her jump. She almost spilled her drink all over her, but luckily caught it before it could stain her. It was rather surprising -- not the sound itself, but the wonder of _who_ was knocking on her door. Pablo was the only one who ever acknowledged her existence within the room, and he didn’t even knock before coming in.

Quickly putting her drink to the side, she rushed to the door… and noticed another note on the ground. Her heart skipped a beat, and she quickly leaned down to pick it up. 

_‘Meet me at the end of the bridge 3am tomorrow. I’m going to help you escape. Wear dark clothes and cover your face._

  * _You know who I am_



She sucked in a breath for a moment, letting the shock sink in before she could worry. She knew exactly who it was, but what if it wasn’t him? What if it was just a decoy to get her out of the house, where they could do whatever they wanted to her? What if Pablo had written it himself to test her loyalty? What if they got caught?

Questions popped into her mind from left to right, not allowing herself to think rationally for a second. If she did take the risk, she could escape -- get a new life, a new name, and from there exact her revenge on the people responsible for her family’s death by working with the DEA... each and every one of them.

But if they did get caught… well, they wouldn’t touch her. But _he_ would be a completely different story.

Eventually, she decided it was a risk she was willing to take, and that if they were caught, it was in her power to stop them from killing him. That she knew for certainty. 

-

When he took down the hood that covered his face, a sigh of relief had escaped her. Deep within, she knew she would find him at the end of the bridge. But despite that, pent up anxiety filled her to the brim since the moment she had gotten the note. And now those fears of it being all a lie were debunked.

She went up to him, her arms wrapping around him in a tight embrace. He responded with the same enthusiasm, and the feeling of his hands around her were enough to give her exhausted body the energy and drive it needed to get out of this place. She was heavily breathing into his shoulder, her body shivering from the cool air, but it didn’t matter. She was leaving Pablo Escobar for good. 

He broke away from her sooner than she would’ve wanted, but his hands still rested on her shoulders as he looked deeply into her eyes. “We’re going to walk for a while. During that time, you can’t say anything at all. You must have your hood on at all times until I tell you otherwise. We’ll walk for a few miles until we reach the car. Understand?”

She nodded.

“Good. And…” His hand slipped into his coat pocket and retrieved a gun, cocking it. “If we get caught, at any point, by more than one person... you will tell them that I tried to kidnap you.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. “Alfonso, I can’t-...”

 _“Do you want to escape or not?”_ He interrupted, and all the words that left her mouth dissipated. “If you’re going to fight with me, I’m not going to help you. So either you shut up and save both of our lives, or keep talking and get us killed.”

She bit her tongue from saying anything, and knew that he was set on the issue. She wouldn’t tell him, but if they were caught, she’d be damned to let him die for her. No… if they were caught, she’d do anything to make sure she wouldn’t be alone again, even if that meant her dying as well. Nevertheless, she nodded. And hopefully, he would never know that she wasn’t planning on keeping her word. Hopefully, they would never reached that epiphany. 

_-_

It had been two and a half hours of walking in the dark, and her eyes and ears were now playing tricks on her. On top of that, she felt more paranoid than she could’ve ever felt in her entire life. Even the slightest crunch of a leaf made her jump out of fear, her head snapping in the direction of where it came from. If there was a gust of wind blowing harder than usual, she would go and grab his hand tightly… And although he didn’t say anything, she could hear him sighing under his breath when she did so. 

She wanted to inquire how much longer they had to walk, because she was beginning to feel herself slowly drift off. Her feet ached, and she had gotten a headache from the repetitive step-after-step of her feet on the ground. She wanted a cigarette more than anything, or even better, a glass of wine. Just something to give her a release. It didn’t help that the shoes she wore were not intended for walking long distances 

Yet, she continued.

Memories of what Pablo did to his enemies, and the torture that his victims had to endure at the hands of Poison were palpable in her mind. She couldn’t get them out of her head, and she saw them as clearly as she could see the night sky. She could feel their hands on her skin, groping her all over, posessively and firmly.

Yet, she continued.

Pablo and Poison; there was no difference. They were both the same man in different skins. Two sides of the same coin. One carried out orders, the other made them. But they both were violent, power-hungry men that didn’t care about anybody other than themselves — remorseless, to the extent of being completely inhuman. She was scared, scared of what they’d do to her if they caught her… but more so scared of what they would do to Alfonso. She considered for a split second if they should even make the attempt of running away.

Yet, she continued.

She was almost at the brink of going insane until she saw it. It was so dark that it blended into the night, camouflaging into the trees around it, the only thing giving it away was the tint of its windows. She smiled from ear to ear, and no matter how horrible her body felt, she was exhilarated. She looked at the face of Alfonso, who finally took his hood off as his lips formed into the smallest of a smile. She took this initiative to take her own hood off, beads of sweat running down her face. “We’re here,” he told her softly, motioning to the car. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she said, more loudly than she should’ve. But she couldn’t help it. “I’ve been ready for too long.”

“Good,” he responded, and reached into his jean pocket with the hand that didn’t hold the gun. Taking it out, he extended his hand and dropped the keys of the car into her own. 

And then it clicked. 

“I have a map in the car of exactly where you need to go-...”

“You’re not coming with me?” 

He looked at her hopeless expression sympathetically for a moment, before shaking his head. “I have a daughter. I’m not going to risk anything happening to her.”

“Please,” She said, rather desperately. No, she wouldn’t leave him. Pablo would find out, and then… “They’ll kill you.”

“No they won’t,” He said, nonchalantly. Nothing seemed to worry him. “Trust me. I’ve been planning this for a week. Neither of us are going to get hurt.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. As much as she wanted him to come with her, as selfish as she wanted him… he was right. If the cartel found out that he had fled with her, they would kill all of his family — exactly the way they did with hers. Nobody could ever know what had happened between them tonight. Other than them. 

“When you pass by the police in Medellin, you’re going to tell them that your name is Elisabeta Calderón. Your papers will be in the back of your car. If they still give you a hard time, take some money out of the front pocket of the passenger seat and give them ad much as they want. Understand?”

She nodded. When there was nothing to say after that, she quickly went up to him and embraced him one last time. He reciprocated the hug, his strong arms holding her against him. “Thank you,” She said quietly, her face digging into the crook of his neck. Out of her entire life, this was the most intimate she had ever been… despite everything that she had done. This was the feeling she had been waiting for for a thousand years. 

“I have to go,” he said, soon pulling away from her. “But I have one last thing you need to do, and it’s the most important thing above all…”

She looked at him once again, her hands on his shoulders as he laid his on her lower back. He leaned towards her, his dark eyes staring intently into hers. “Whatever you do, never tell anyone who you truly are… Until you get to the embassy.”

“And what will I do then?”

He paused for a moment, and then — “Find Javier Peña. Find him, and tell him everything. He will help you.”

A silence stretched between them before he finally let go of her, looking at her one last time before turning back, heading back into the thick of the woods. He got smaller and smaller every passing second, until she couldn’t see him anymore.   
  


_For you, I will_ , she told herself. _For myself. For everyone._


	8. Who's the Asshole Called Javi?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I understand if you skipped everything to only read this part. I've been there too. 
> 
> There's much more Javier to come, so hopefully you'll stick around for more.

After a week of sleeping in the car, eating low-priced food at motels, using the bathroom at gas stations, driving, and bribing corrupt security... she was officially at the place she needed to be. The embassy. 

She had called in a meeting with Javier Peña, one of the DEA agents that was actively searching for Pablo Escobar. She had read about him in local newspapers prior to calling in, including his Gringo partner, Steve Murphy, as well. And now she was sitting in the lobby room, only minutes away from becoming the most wanted _goal_ on Escobar’s hit list for being an informant. But she was willing to take that risk, if it meant she could destroy the very empire that destroyed her. 

She heard the clearing of a throat and immediately glanced up, noticing the Latino man that watched over her. He must’ve been in his late 30’s, with disheveled dark-brown hair and eyes that had a spark of interest within them for a split second upon seeing her, before quickly going back to its normal darkness. He wore a black suit along with an even blacker tie, almost looking as though he was some professional businessman meeting with fancy investors. He had a cigarette in his lips, taking it out to finally speak. “Are you Elisabeta?” 

She nodded, finally standing up. She extended her arm out to formally introduce herself, but he only looked at it before completely disregarding the gesture. “We’re gonna go a the local pub to talk about this, somewhere less suspicious for you,” he said, then paused. “How old are you?”

“20, sir.”

“Sir,” he scoffed, inhaling his cigarette. When he exhaled, he lightly put an arm on her shoulder, nearly making her flinch, and gave a perfunctory smile. “If we’re going to do this, just call me Javi.” 

“Yes sir-...” She repeated, then followed up — “I mean, Javi.”

He finally took his hand off her, and analyzed her for a moment. “You’re quite young to know these things Alfonso says you do, aren’t you?”

She didn’t respond, only giving a curt nod. The looks coming from other people was enough to make her eerily paranoid. For all she knew, any one of them could be reporting back to Escobar in this exact moment. 

-

“So how are you related to Escobar?” He asked, seemingly indifferent towards the subject. He took another swig of his beer as she was left looking into her own glass of water, carefully thinking the words she would say. 

“I… I was one of his mistresses,” she said quietly, noticing his features change substantially. “My father produced coke for him... that’s how we met.”

“Wow,” He let out, leaning back in his chair. He had a slight countenance of smugness as he stared at her in disbelief. “When they said they had an informant, I was expecting just some one-timer whore of his, or something… I didn’t expect…”

“Me?” She let out. The longer she was in this man’s presence, the more she disliked him. Perhaps it was his air of cockiness that made her uncomfortable, or his blasé approach to the dilemma she was in. “I suppose that makes the two of us.”

He laughed at the comment, putting another cigarette in his lips and lighting it. As much as she wanted to reach and grab one for herself, she had to keep her composure and stay focused. She couldn’t have him pull any information out of her that may be detrimental to anyone other than her. “What, did you expect some fat old man to take you into his office and write in his little notepad while you spill everything, sweetheart?” 

“No. But I thought this would be something taken more seriously… it’s your job, after all.”

He took another long, deep drink of his beer, before putting it down on the table harder than she anticipated, startling her. “Listen, Elisabeta... if you want me to help you, you’re going to have to show me a little more respect than that. I understand it all seems strange to you, but this is how we get shit done. So unless you want a Visa or some form of money, you’re gonna have to cooperate with me.”

She paused, reflecting on the tone of her voice and how it could be taken harshly. By no means was she very fond of the man, but unless she wanted to cripple Pablo’s business, she had to play nice for as long as she could… for when it benefited her, at least. “I don’t want anything,” she said, after a long pause. “I just want him dead.”

His smile returned, this time more genuine than the last. “We’re on the same page there,” he said, more calmly this time. “So the more we’re able to work together... the sooner we’re able to catch this son of a bitch.”


End file.
